The Many Deaths and Humiliations of Jake McCartey
by Kameka
Summary: read the title. If you like Jake and don't have a sense of humor, skip this story/series! I've changed the rating to PG-13 because of violence and possible swearing.
1. Domestic Chores & Murder

Domestic Chores and Murder  
  
Sara Pezzini and her former surfer rookie partner walked through Central Park on their lunch hour. Turning to the blonde, Sara again asked why they were there.  
  
Jake shrugged. "Just felt like getting out." He stopped again, noticing Sara's glare as he knelt to pet a dog. "Don't you like dogs?  
  
"They're ok."  
  
"How can you not like dogs?"  
  
"Did I say I didn't?"  
  
"You said. Wow, look at those!" He stood up and pointed ahead of them.  
  
Sara looked to where Ian Nottingham was walking towards them with two large long-haired dogs.  
  
"Hey, Sara, isn't that your stalker?"  
  
Sara just looked at him.  
  
Ian, having reached them, answered for her. "I am not a stalker, Detective McCartey."  
  
"Oh." Jake knelt to pet the dogs. "What type are they?"  
  
Ian answered with pride obvious in his voice. "Irish Wolfhounds."  
  
Jake looked at Ian. "Wolfhounds? As in wolves?"  
  
Gabriel came up to the small group, looked at the kneeling man, and laughed. "Comfortable?"  
  
Jake jumped to his feet. "I am not gay!"  
  
Gabriel laughed again. "Did I say you were?"  
  
"Sara and I went to Badlands for a case. Nothing more!" Jake emphasized.  
  
Gabriel looked over at Nottingham. "We believe you."  
  
Jake continued, "it's not my fault that the bartender recognized me."  
  
Gabriel, now looking curious, asking "where did he recognize you from?"  
  
Jake opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, and closed it.  
  
Sara spoke up. "You know, Jake, if you had just said you'd be recognized at Badlands instead of acting like a homophobic jerk, I would have understood."  
  
Ian held up one finger to make a point. "You would have asked who would recognize him, Sara. Acting homophobic was an easy cover."  
  
Jake finally managed to force another "I'm not gay!" from his throat to the talking trio.  
  
Gabriel shook his head. "The queen doth protest too much."  
  
"I'M NOT GAY!" Jake shouted.  
  
Sara, Ian, and Gabriel looked at each other before chorusing "we believe you!"  
  
"Good." Jake nodded. "What are their names?" He gestured towards the dogs in an obvious attempt at changing the subject.  
  
"Grendel and Charon."  
  
Gabriel whistled. "Cool names."  
  
Jake nodded, obviously unfamiliar with them.  
  
Sara took pity on him and explained. "Grendel was a monster in a classic Norse story. He killed Norse warriors at night until Beowulf killed him. Charon is the boatman in Greek mythology who escorted the dead into Hades."  
  
Ian half-smiled at Sara. "Nice."  
  
Sara shrugged. "My dad enjoyed all types of reading. I inherited his taste."  
  
Jake continued nodding until a thought occurred to him. "I thought you said you weren't dangerous."  
  
Ian looked at Jake with pity in his bearded face. "I never said I wasn't dangerous, Detective. Just that I'm not a stalker."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"A subtle difference that a detective should have caught," Ian stated.  
  
Jake looked Ian over, taking in the coat covered man. "I don't think you're dangerous."  
  
Ian raised an eyebrow in imitation of Sara. "I believe you've seen my file."  
  
Jake shrugged. "I still don't believe you're dangerous."  
  
Gabriel turned to Sara. "Isn't there a minimum intelligence rating that New York police officers have to pass?"  
  
Sara shrugged. "Apparently not."  
  
Gabriel sighed. "Well, I feel safe now!"  
  
Jake turned to the two. "Will you be quiet?" The talking subsided and Jake turned back to Ian. "I bet you named your dogs after things associated with death just to compensate. To help your macho image."  
  
Ian shrugged. "If you want to believe that, believe it, Detective McCartey."  
  
Jake nodded. "I do."  
  
"Does this mean you won't consider me a suspect in any crime you wish?"  
  
Jake shook his head. "Nah, you're still a good suspect."  
  
"You just said I wasn't dangerous, Detective."  
  
Jake nodded. "Right."  
  
Gabriel laughed at the illogic Jake just showed. "Man, Sara, are all rookies like him?"  
  
Sara shrugged. "I hope not."  
  
Jake smiled a smug self-assured smile and nodded, obviously pleased with himself. "And to prove that you aren't dangerous, I'm gonna take you out right here."  
  
Ian left a small chuckle escape. "Really?  
  
Jake nodded again. "Yeah."  
  
"With weapons or without?"  
  
"How about you with whatever you can find, me with my gun? You're not dangerous anyhow."  
  
Ian nodded. "Fair enough." He turned to Sara and held out the leashes for Grendel and Charon. "Would you mind?"  
  
Sara shook her head. "Of course not."  
  
Ian smiled his thanks and turned back to Jake. "How do we know to begin?"  
  
Jake thought a minute. "How about on three?" Ian nodded his acceptance of the plan and Jake suddenly shouted "THREE!" and pulled his gun out of the holster.  
  
Ian backed up a step and whirled, pulling two short swords out of the scabbards hidden under his coat. "Never know when I'm going to need to fillet some meat."  
  
Jake nodded and took a step forward, unprepared for the flying kick that pushed him into the ever-present mud. He sat up and wiped the brown viscous liquid from his neck before flinging a handful at Ian.  
  
"Now, Detective, haven't you ever been told about the dangers of libel?" Ian asked as he easily dodged the loosely packed dirt and water.  
  
Jake stood up and rushed towards Ian only to scream when one of the swords sliced through his shirt and into his flesh. "You aren't supposed to hurt me!"  
  
"But you can hurt me?"  
  
"Right!"  
  
"Because I'm not dangerous," Ian supplied.  
  
"Right!"  
  
Ian nodded. "Mind if I ask you a question, Detective?"  
  
Jake nodded his answer right before he lunged at Ian for the second time, once again landing in the mud.  
  
"If you're the dangerous one, why are you the one on your hands and knees in front of young Mr. Bowman?"  
  
Jake looked up to see the smirking dotcom entrepreneur and quickly got to his feet. "I'm gonna get you, Nottingham!"  
  
"I believe you'll try." Ian dodged a third lunge in his direction and raised a leg, his booted foot catching Jake in the stomach so the shorter man landed on his knees gasping for breath.  
  
Jake got his breathing under control and stood. He squarely planted his feet on the ground and stood ready. "What, are you a wimp that can only defend?"  
  
Ian accepted the challenge and strolled up to Jake, reaching out and backhanding him across the face.  
  
Jake's head whipped around and he raised his hand to a cheek. "That's how you slap a woman, not a man!"  
  
Ian shrugged.  
  
"I am NOT a woman!"  
  
Ian shrugged again.  
  
Jake reached up to punch Ian, unprepared for the second blow to his stomach that caused him to bend over, his nose in prime position to connect with Ian's knee. "You broke my nose!" he howled through the hands cupping said nose.  
  
Ian shook his head. "I doubt it's broken at the moment." He lifted Jake into a standing position with a gloved hand on the back of his collar and grasped hold of it, moving it sharply to one side and hearing the cartilage give a satisfying crunch. "Now it's broken, Detective."  
  
Jake shook him off and backed up. Standing as tall as he could, he squared his shoulders and looked at Ian with disdain. "I still don't think you're dangerous," he said, the statement incongruous with how he was holding himself and the blood streaming down his face.  
  
Ian shrugged.  
  
"If you really are, why don't you prove it? Kill me!"  
  
"If you're dead, Detective, how will you know that I'm dangerous?"  
  
Jake sneered, "since you won't kill me, it's moot point."  
  
Ian looked over at Sara who shrugged before turning back to Jake. "All right, Jake. Consider yourself dead."  
  
"You don't have the guts to do it! You don't have the balls." Jake's tirade was shut off with the soft gurgle of Ian's blade slicing through his neck.  
  
Ian shrugged and wiped the blood from his sword on a handkerchief he took out of his pocket. "You said kill you." He dropped the handkerchief onto Jake's prone form and turned to where Sara and Gabe stood.  
  
Gabriel took a step closer to Ian and pointed to the body and then Ian himself. "Oh, my Gods, you killed Jakey, you gothic bastard!"  
  
Sara raised an eyebrow at her young friend. "Gabriel, this is Jake. Aren't you overreacting?"  
  
Gabriel shrugged. "I always wanted to say that."  
  
Ian stepped forward and took the two leashes from Sara's hand. "Want to keep me company while I walk the dogs?"  
  
Sara looked at her watch. "Sure, I still have some time. Come on, Gabriel."  
  
And the trio walked away from the body of Jake McCartey, surfer, rookie detective, beach bum, and believer in the undead.  
  
The End 


	2. When Coasts Collide

When Coasts Collide By Elf/Kameka  
  
"I want to see Cody Madison!" A blonde woman pouted to Wallace, the desk sergeant of Precinct 11.  
  
Wallace sighed. He'd been dealing with this woman for close to an hour now, and she still didn't believe him when he told her there was no Cody Madison working there.  
  
"He has to be here! He told me us he was working in Homicide!" The blonde took a piece of stationary out of her beaded purse and waved it under his nose as if it were proof of her claim.  
  
Wallace bit back his automatic question of 'you mean there are more of you' to try, once again, to explain it. "That may be so, ma'am, but he's not at this precinct."  
  
"Is there a problem, Sergeant?" Captain Dante's voice was almost right next to Wallace's ear.  
  
"No problem, Captain." Wallace gestured towards the scantily clad blonde with a file folder. "This woman was just looking for someone who's supposed to be one of your detectives. Cody Madison."  
  
Dante frowned, his eyes still on what had drawn him here: the skin shown by the extremely brief chiffon leopard print shift. He hated to disappoint the woman, but "I'm sorry, ma'am. There's no Cody Madison under my command."  
  
The blonde pouted again, a practiced gesture she obviously used often. "But he has to be here! Are you sure you haven't seen him? You can't miss my Cody!"  
  
This time, both Dante and Wallace sighed. This woman was obviously a natural blonde. "There's no one by that name working in Homicide, but what does he look like? Maybe we've seen him."  
  
"Blonde hair, really great body, and he looks great in a pair of swim trunks. Or out of them," she giggled.  
  
"Only guy who fits that description in Homicide is Jake McCartey." Dante stopped as he realized what he just said. "Uh, forget I said that," he told Wallace.  
  
Wallace smirked and shook his head. He might forget Dante said it, but none of the officers milling around the desk would. Assuming they weren't completely focused on the bimbo.  
  
Just then the man in question walked in with his senior partner, Sara Pezzini. The two were discussing the case they had just wrapped up, models killed in such a way it was made to seem as if a snake had killed them.  
  
Both Dante and Wallace looked towards the pair as they walked in and the blonde turned to see what they were looking at. "Cody!" was exclaimed, her voice slightly shrill. She launched herself at the rookie detective, miraculously keeping her balance on the 4" high stiletto heels she was balanced on.  
  
Jake automatically caught the warm body that impacted his own. He looked towards the two men by the desk, about to ask what was up when his vision was obscured by teased blonde tresses smelling of hairspray and gel. As he opened his mouth, lips covered in bronze lipstick were attached and a tongue was thrust into it.  
  
He pulled away from the woman and stepped back after making sure she was steady. He gave a slightly harassed look to Sara, who merely raised an eyebrow in question before turning back to the woman. "CJ?"  
  
The blonde pouted again. "You don't have to act so surprised, Cody Madison. You did invite me here."  
  
"I did?"  
  
"Of course you did! In your letter." She waved the piece of paper under his nose and looked to Sara. "CJ Parker," she said as she offered a hand.  
  
"Sara Pezzini. Nice to meet you, Miss Parker." Sara looked at the manicured hand as if it were foreign before gingerly shaking it.  
  
"Oh, call me CJ. Mind if I call you Sara? Cody's told me so much about you!" She kissed his cheek, leaving a smear of her lipstick on his skin.  
  
"Cody has?" Sara raised her brow at Jake again.  
  
"I can explain!" Jake tried to extricate himself from the blonde's grasp. "When I lived in California, I went by Cody. I thought it sounded better then Jake."  
  
CJ nodded vaguely. "We worked together, as lifeguards."  
  
Sara blinked. "You were a lifeguard, rookie?"  
  
Jake nodded distractedly as CJ went on. "It was great. He didn't hide his body under all these clothes," she plucked at said clothes, "and he was great at practicing mouth to mouth resuscitation." She leaned in to kiss him again, a move he dodged.  
  
"Working on the beach made sense. I was able to keep in shape for my surfing."  
  
"Don't forget your swimming, Cody!" CJ turned to Sara. "He was practicing for the Olympics," she confided.  
  
Sara choked back a laugh. "The Olympics?"  
  
CJ nodded.  
  
Sara shook her head. "Never would have guessed that, rookie."  
  
CJ sighed and took a closer look at the female detective. "You know, Sara, we should go shopping while I'm here."  
  
"Shopping?" Sara's brow raised again, it was getting quite a workout today.  
  
"Yeah," she nodded. "If this," she gestured to the T-shirt, jeans, and leather jacket Sara was wearing, "is what you normally wear, your wardrobe is just dying for some dresses."  
  
Sara shook her head as Dante and Wallace laughed. "My wardrobe isn't dying for anything, Miss Parker."  
  
"Oh, call me CJ! Every woman needs some cute dresses, Sara!"  
  
Sara shook her head. "I'm not really a dress type of woman."  
  
"Well then, we'll just have to change that, won't we," CJ made the question a statement as she looped arms with Jake. "Come on, Cody, I want to see your office!"  
  
Jake looked back as he was pulled down the hall, smiling with relief as Sara jogged up to them.  
  
Instead of rescuing him, Sara just whispered "I thought you liked smart women?" into his ear.  
  
Jake's panicked expression flushed a dull red of embarrassment at the question, quickly draining of all color when he heard the voice in front of them.  
  
"Well, well. Hello, Detectives," Dr. Laura Slomacker greeted.  
  
Jake's head whipped around to see the petite glasses-wearing brunette. "Laura!"  
  
CJ detached one hand from his arm and reached out to shake the doctor's hand. "CJ Parker."  
  
"Miss Parker," Laura greeted as she shook the offered hand.  
  
"Cody's just going to take me to see his office, and his badge, and his gun." CJ smiled brilliantly and kissed Jake's mouth again.  
  
Laura looked over at Sara who just shook her head. "I see. Well, Detective McCartey, I'll let you and Miss Parker go." She started to walk down the hall but turned. "I think it's best if we don't go out tomorrow night, Detective," she told Jake before continuing down the hall, a pathway of clearing between officers.  
  
Sara smirked and shook her head before following the psychiatrist.  
  
"Man, I'm never gonna live this down!"  
  
The End  
  
NOTES: I've seen MAYBE an episode of Baywatch, so I doubt it's truthful when it comes to characters. No disrespect intended to Pamela Anderson, lots intended for David Chochaki - or at least the character he plays on Witchblade! 


	3. Teal Me Another Tot of Rum, Please

Thanks for the reviews, everyone!

Teal Me Another Tot of Rum, Please

By Elf/Kameka

Detective Jake McCartey looked blearily across the table at his drinking companion, Captain Bruno Dante.

"So, Jake, what was it like bein' a surfer?" Dante asked before tossing the last of the amber liquid back.

Jake smiled a dreamy smile. "Awesome. You juss go with the flow, at the mercy of nature." Jake demonstrated that by listing first to one side, then the other, just barely keeping from toppling from his seat.

"Any close calls with sharks?" Dante sloppily poured liquid into their glasses, managing to get a good amount on the already sticky table.

"Man, did I ever! There was one about this big," Jake leaned back and spread his arms, the chair tilting dangerously back with the force of his weight. "It was a tiger shark. Be-ootiful. Went after Charlie, the guy next to me. Great surfer 'til then."

"Hurt?"

"Only about a hundred stitches in his leg," Jake explained, "but after that, he wouldn't go near the ocean."

Dante stared at the rookie. "You never wanted to give up?"

"Yer in THEIR home. Ya do anythin' around nature, ya gotta be ready for the consekenses."

Dante nodded at this sage piece of advice.

"'Sides, where'd a quitter be?"

Dante shrugged, finishing off the rum in his glass to poor himself another. "Those ya want ta quit don't."

"Who ya want ta quit, Cap'n?" Jake held out his glass for a refill.

"That bitch Petzini."

"Aw, Cap'n, she can't quit! I don't wanna be stuck in an office all day with a smelly guy!"

"You sure?" Dante asked with a leer on his face.

"I'm not gay."

Dante shrugged and went back to his pet hate. "She bugs me."

"Cap'n, with a body like that, she can bug me an'time."

Dante laughed and lifted his glass. "True."

Jake clinked his against Dante's, falling over the table. "Aw, yuck." He set the glass down hard, alcohol sloshing over the side, and placed both hands on the table to push himself off it. Too hard, he decided, as he flipped the chair back and flailed for a second before landing with a solid thud on the tile floor. "Damn."

Dante lowered his head to the table and snickered into the glass. "Time ta go." He stood up and tossed a bunch of bills from his wallet next to the glasses He walked over to where the the ex-surfer was still laying dazed and bent at the waist, bracing himself on the table with one hand as he lowered the other. "C'mon." He helped the blonde to his feet, keeping him steady by wrapping an arm around his waist.

"Thanks, Cap'n."  


The two men stumbled through the door onto the chilly street. They made their way to the curb and peered down the street. "Need a lift?" Dante asked as he hailed a cab.

Jake shook his head. "Nah, live that-a-way," he gestured in the direction.

Dante looked at the blonde man with a critical eye over the open door. "Ya can't drive."

"I'll walk. Gotta shortcut. Central Park."

Dante nodded and folded himself into the cab. "Kay. Bye."

"See ya, Cap'n." Jake waved until the car was out of site before he started making his unsteady way to the shadowed park.

He entered it, carefully staying on the pathway, tripping over loose stones while he sung under his breath. Slowly he made his way until he was about halfway through it, by the lake. Suddenly, he became aware of eyes watching him.

"Who's there," he slurred as he spun, the momentum proving too much for him as he crashed to the ground.

There was no answer, only the wind sliding through the trees.

"I'm a cop!" He shouted, fumbling for his badge.

Nothing answered him. The wind died down, leaving only an unnatural silence. Gradually Jake became aware of bright eyes watching him in the darkness. 

He lifted himself to his knees and looked around, frantically searching for a way out.

He was surrounded.

Switching his goal, he fumbled instead for his cell phone, frantically turning it on and pressing #3 on his speed dial.

"Yeah." Sara Pezzini's voice could be heard from it.

"Sara!" Jake whispered desperately.

"Jake?" Sara's voice was incredulous. "Why the hell are you calling me this late, Jake?"

"Sara, I'm surrounded!" Jake whispered, hoping his senior partner would come to his rescue as she had a million times before.

"Where are you, Jake?" The sounds of Sara getting dressed could be heard over the phone.

"Central Park," Jake answered, idly wishing he was with Sara at that very moment.

"What kind of fool goes to the park alone at this time of night?"

Jake didn't answer, still caught up in his daydream of Sara undressing.

He was still lost in it when the roar of a motorcycle could be heard. It died down and Sara crept towards where she could see Jake kneeling on the pavement still holding his phone to his ear. His badge lay on the ground beside him.

"Jake?" Sara looked around for who had surrounded him but saw nothing. There was no blood and he wasn't laying down. That was promising. After making sure there was no one around, she holstered her gun and knelt beside the man, shaking his shoulder.

Jake shook himself out of his daydream to find Sara's concerned face next to him. "Sara!"

Sara flinched back at the smell of alcohol on his breath. That answered her earlier question about what type of idiot goes to Central Park alone at night. "Whew, Jake, how much have you had to drink?"

Jake shrugged. "Wha'ever the Cap'n din't drink," he answered, obviously uninterested in the current conversation. "You look be-ootiful, Sara."

"You went drinking with Dante?"

"He asked, Sara. I'd go wit' ya if you asked me. But ya dun't." Jake shook his head forlornly.

Sara stared at the man before her and shook her own head. "Forget it. What'd ya talk about, Jake?" She started to maneuver herself to get him up off the ground.

Jake, now almost standing, gestured, a movement that almost took him back down. "Ever'thin'. Surfin', forces of nature, you."

Sara let go of Jake's waist in shock. "You talked about me to Dante?"

Jake nodded as he tried to catch his balance, helped by the return of Sara's arm.

"Never mind, I don't want to know; Where'd the guys who surrounded you go to, Jake?"

Jake gestured towards the shores of the small lake.

"They swam away?"

Jake shook his head and pointed at one of the ducks just barely in the water.

Sara blinked. "The ducks surrounded you?"

Jake nodded. "Yep."

Sara let go of Jake slowly and stepped back to study the inebriated man. "Let me get this straight, Jake. You go out drinking with Dante, you talk about me, then you go for a walk."

Jake nodded again. "Home," he explained.

"And then you called me at 4 AM because you were surrounded by a bunch of ducks!?"

Jake scuffed his toe on the ground. "Din't know they're ducks. Outnumbered," he said, as if that explained it all. "'Sides, you gotta stalker. Know how ta hannle 'em."

Sara took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and counted to ten as her father had taught her. Opening, her eyes, she caught sight of the self-satisfied smirk gracing the tanned face of her partner. "Jake, remember the forces of nature you and Dante talked about?"

Jake thought for a minute before nodding, more to agree with her then having any real memory.

"Was I in that discussion?" The Witchblade morphed from it's benign bracelet form into the gauntlet.

Jake thought again, this time taking longer since he had nothing to really agree with. "Nope."

"What did you say about me?"

Jake thought again, his smirk growing wider as he leered at her. "Yer a bitch but ya gotta great body."

Sara started counting again, reaching 29 before taking a deep breath and forgetting it. "You put me in the wrong part."

Jake nodded in agreement, glad she wasn't asking questions he had to answer.

"You should have put me in the 'forces of nature' category." Sara stepped forward and swung her arm in an arch as a blade came out of the gauntlet, cleanly slicing through his abdomen. 

He fell to the ground clutching his stomach and stared wide-eyed at the infuriated woman before him.

"Don't you ever wake me up at 4 AM again!" Sara shouted at him before stalking off in search of large amounts of coffee. The motorcycle came to life, the roaring of it's engine blocking out the falling of Jake McCartey's body.

The End


	4. Vampire Hunting

Vampire Hunting: The Dead Seeking the Undead By: Kameka/Elf  
  
Jake shook his head as he stood up wondering what had hit him. He looked around his surroundings. The park. Right, now he remembered. He'd gone drinking with Dante and tried to walk home. He glanced towards the lake, the top of which was covered with ducks.  
  
"Man, I'm never gonna live that down. It's probably all over the station by now." He checked his pockets and groaned. "No badge, no gun, no phone. I'm gonna have to report them missing and get replacements." He pulled his wallet out of one of his pockets, wondering why he still had it. "Not a very efficient mugger." Jake shook his head and started the walk towards his apartment.  
  
He had only taken a few steps when he realized that the sun was high in the sky. He was late for work! He longingly thought of the hot shower he had half-planned before trying to catch a cab to the station. It was definitely a good thing his wallet hadn't been stolen.  
  
As it happens, having money didn't matter; none of the cabs would stop no matter how frantically Jake tried to wave them down. This inconvenience left a disgusted Jake running to work, his head pounding more with every step he took.  
  
Finally he reached the precinct, blonde hair matted to his head and rivulets of sweat running down his red face. No officer would look at him, a fact he was happy about; no need to add to his problems, right? He slipped inside as the door swung shut, not wanting to go to the problem of opening it himself, and stepped up to the desk Sergeant, Officer Wallace, to report his missing gun and badge.  
  
"Hey, man!" Wallace continued to ignore him.  
  
"Yo, Wallace!" Why was he ignoring him? He hadn't done anything to insult him recently, had he?  
  
"Wallace..Wally, Wally, Bing Bang. Is there anyone home?" Jake's voice took on the insipid sing-song tone all bachelors got when faced with small kids and he went to tap Wallace's head.  
  
His hand never connected.  
  
"Whoa!" Jake tried to touch Wallace again, his hand once again passing through the solid flesh and bone. "What a cool trick! Hey, anyone see that?"  
  
No one turned to answer his question and he paled. "Wait-a-minute. How's this possible?" He moved over to try to touch another person and his hand passed through again.  
  
He was turning, hoping to find someone looking at him, when he caught sight of a picture of himself on the bulletin board. A picture captioned by his dates of birth and.. DEATH?  
  
"I'm not dead, am I?" Jake looked towards Wallace, remembering the freaky sensation of his hand passing through the other man's head. "Oh, man, I gotta tell someone."  
  
With that thought in mind, he headed towards the basement where the morgue and the office of one Vicki Po was located. After all, if anyone was going to see a dead guy, it'd be a woman who worked with dead people, right?  
  
It was a trip made in vain. Vicki not only couldn't see him, she walked right through him twice, each time holding a coffee mug full of bourbon.  
  
"Why couldn't I tell that she was drinking? I'm a detective!" Jake looked around and sighed. "No one to report it to, me bein' dead and all." He watched with interest as Vicki went into the other room and opened one of the freezer doors. A tray with a very familiar body on it slid out.  
  
Jake stumbled as he looked at his own face, dull blue with refrigeration. "What's she thinkin' of doin'?"  
  
His question was answered as Vicki used the towel the body rested on to slide it over onto a gurney that had been resting against the wall. The gurney was rolled out into the main room and his body was put onto the examination table the same way. As it was being moved, the loose white towel slipped from the corpse's nether regions, causing a blush to rise on Jake's cheeks as he remembered the corpse was himself.  
  
Vicki covered the exposed genitalia with both eyebrows arched. "No wonder he always tried to act so macho; a classic case of overcompensation. I'll have to tell Pez she was right."  
  
The blush spread and burned his overheated skin as Vicki pulled a tray with her tools of trade over and started a tape recorder.  
  
"This autopsy is on Jake McCartey, Caucasian male, 27 years of age. Apparent cause of death is blood loss caused by a blade. The wound is too deep for it to be a knife, speculation is the murder weapon was a sword." Vicki recited as she lifted a sharpened scalpel. "I am now doing the classic Y incision, hopefully I'll find something in the abdominal cavity."  
  
The metal flashing as it descended was the last thing Jake remembered before he passed out.  
  
*  
  
Jake came to on the floor of the morgue. It was deserted; no body, living or dead, in sight, thank God. He looked towards the room containing the freezers. What was left of his body was there. Shivering, he instead decided to wander the hallways.  
  
He wandered aimlessly, going this way and that, until he eventually reached the office he had shared with Sara. He paused in the doorway to see Sara hard at work in front of her computer. His own desk was empty, giving Jake a very masculine sense of satisfaction that he wasn't so easily replaced. "Heh. Wonder what bozo they'll get to be your partner now, Pez?"  
  
Sara glanced towards the door, causing Jake to look behind him. She couldn't have heard him, right? Nah. That didn't stop a shiver of unease from tingling down his spine as he saw she was still looking at the doorway. At him.  
  
"Sara?" Jake asked, catching sight of the swirling stone in the bracelet she always wore. Another thing he missed while he was alive?  
  
"Danny!" Sara's tone made the summoning whisper a command.  
  
An Asian man with long hair popped in, leaning back and putting his feet up on the desk in front of him. "You bellowed?"  
  
"I did not bellow," she whispered furiously. "If I had, everyone in Homicide would've heard me."  
  
Danny shrugged. "More like a tone then the volume, Pez. What's your problem? I hear you finally dispatched your rookie. Work's gotta be lookin' up."  
  
Sara pointed to a spot behind him. "The rookie's my problem, Danny. I can't even get rid of him by killing him! You, I don't mind visiting me. Him, I do. Get rid of him!"  
  
Danny twisted to see Jake standing in the doorway in rumpled clothes. "What're you doing here, Jake?"  
  
Jake shook his head. "You're Danny Woo."  
  
Danny nodded. "Yeah."  
  
"But, but, you were killed by Gallo!"  
  
Danny shrugged. "So? You were killed by Sara and you're still here. Why shouldn't I be?"  
  
"But, but."  
  
Danny sighed. "Listen, rookie, you gotta leave Sara alone, ok?"  
  
Jake stared at Sara as if he'd never seen her before. "She can see us?"  
  
Sara tossed the file folder down on the desk. "Yeah, rookie. Real quick here, aren't you? Yes, I can see you both. Even if I don't want to see you," was added under her breath.  
  
"How?" Jake looked at both the live detective and the dead one, hoping they could explain some of this.  
  
"Need to know basis, McCartey, and you don't."  
  
Jake looked at the woman before him. "Geez, Pez, what's up with you?"  
  
Sara stood up to get a cup of coffee. "Well, let's see. You drive me nuts on investigations, wake me up for one of the lamest reasons I've ever heard at 4 AM, and then, since you're dead, I get stuck with double the paperwork and no partner to push it off onto! And you ask me what's wrong?" She drained the cup in one long gulp and poured another.  
  
"Hey, Pez," Danny told her, "if you don't lay off the coffee you're gonna get an ulcer."  
  
"Jake's here, Danny. An ulcer is the least of my worries." She turned towards the blonde, "what are you doing here anyway?"  
  
Jake shrugged. "Wandering."  
  
"Well, wander away!" Sara sat back down with her full cup and lifted the folder so she wouldn't have to see him.  
  
"Hey, Pez, I hear you've been checking out my package," he taunted, a smirk in his voice.  
  
"Oh, boy," Danny exclaimed as he sat back down and shook his head.  
  
"You know how it is when you get bored with paperwork, rookie."  
  
"You can't say stuff like that to me!"  
  
Sara laughed. "What're you gonna do? Report me to your buddy Dante?"  
  
Jake pouted, realizing that he couldn't report her to anyone. "I can stick around and bug ya."  
  
Sara shook her head. "Sorry. You don't honestly think you're the first ghost I've seen, right? Or even the second?" she gestured to Danny. "Ghosts can bleed, Jake. Trust me on this; I had to search my apartment for more after I found a drop left by Monsignor Bellamy."  
  
Jake paled, Sara having knocked the idea that he could get away with anything out of his head.  
  
Danny took pity on the recently deceased man and grabbed his arm. "C'mon, let's leave her alone." He led the blonde down the hall, weaving around people. Catching the look on Jake's face, he shrugged and explained, "I don't like people walking through me."  
  
Jake nodded and followed, still shaken by the news that not only was he dead, but his former partner could see, talk to, and hurt him.  
  
Eventually the dead duo reached the gym, another room in the busy building that was deserted.  
  
"Uh, why're we here, Danny?"  
  
Danny shrugged. "I miss the gym. Not too many people to spar with, you know."  
  
Jake nodded and offered to spar with him.  
  
Danny grinned. "Great! I have a lot of frustration to work out."  
  
Jake hesitated, suddenly unsure this was a good idea. "Frustration?"  
  
"Yeah! C'mon, Jake, I've been dead for months. I was murdered. Talk about repressed anger!"  
  
Jake swallowed the lump in his throat. "Repressed anger?"  
  
A foot meeting his neck was his answer, an answer that propelled him back into the wall.  
  
"Uh, Danny?"  
  
"You're already dead, Jake. I can't kill you." The kick was followed by a swift punch to the stomach.  
  
"Danny?" Jake asked, wheezing from the air being forced out of his lungs.  
  
The Asian wasted no time, grabbing the back of the blonde's neck with one hand, an easy feat because of the doubled up position he was in. Lifting one knee, it crunched again Jake's nose before the hand now holding the rookie up propelled him into the floor.  
  
"Danny," he groaned from his sprawled position, "I don't think I want to spar anymore."  
  
Danny sighed; sparring partners we so hard to find. "Alright, Jake." He moved next to Jake and gracefully folded his body until he was sitting Indian style next to the prone man. "What do you want to do?"  
  
Jake breathed a sigh of relief. "Know anywhere I can find vampires?"  
  
Danny thought for a moment before answering. "Sunnydale. It's a town in California. Everyone says it's the main vampire stomping grounds in the US."  
  
Jake thought for a minute. "Sunnydale. Cool, thanks. I think I'm gonna go check that place out." He laboriously pulled himself to first a sitting position then upwards until he was standing. "Nice, uh, seeing you, Danny. Say goodbye to Pez for me, ok?" He left the gym, uncertain of how he would get to Sunnydale, but not wanting to stick around.  
  
"Sure, Jake. Wish I could say the same," Danny muttered as he watched Jake gingerly walk away.  
  
The End 


	5. New York's Revenge

Note for "Vampire Hunting:" The search for vampires was in reference to the episode "Sacrifice" in which Sara and Conchobar meet. At the scene of the first murder, there was this piece of dialogue: --Forensics (off camera): Never seen anyone stabbed like this. --Sara: Stabbed? It's more like getting staked. --Jake: Through the heart. Vampires?  
  
  
  
New York's Revenge By Kameka  
  
Jake shook his head, groaning as the pounding increased, and raised his hands to ease it. Or tried to. His hands were secured to the frame of the metal chair he was tied to. He opened his eyes, wincing at the bright, glaring light that bounced off the stark white walls. A white fan lazily circled overhead, it's efforts to stir the humid unconditioned air in the room welcome.  
  
"Why am I here?" he asked, not really expecting an answer. Had he just been tied up and left? If that was the case, then he might be able to get out of here.  
  
"You owe me a favor, Detective McCartey," came from hidden speakers placed on the walls.  
  
Jake frowned for a moment before placing the cultured tones as belonging to Kenneth Irons. "Huh?"  
  
"When I corroborated your lie to Captain Dante about the whereabouts of Sara Pezzini during the death of her lover, I told you that I would collect for it, did I not?"  
  
"Well, yeah, but you didn't have to go to such lengths to ask for it," Jake groused as he ineffectually tugged at the bonds that held him.  
  
A sigh could be heard over the speakers and Jake craned his neck to find them, finally giving up when all he found was the same bright white that hurt his eyes.  
  
"Now that I'm here, will you untie me?"  
  
"I'm afraid that I cannot do that, Detective," Irons answered in a tone that was anything but apologetic. "Your being bound is one of the conditions of the favor."  
  
"We placed no conditions on anything!" Jake tried to sound tough as he shouted it, but his current position made any toughness a cover. He was totally at Irons' mercy: unable to move any body part except his head.  
  
"Actually, Detective, you are correct. We placed no conditions on when or how I could ask a favor of you. Which means that you cannot complain at how I have decided to collect."  
  
Jake recognized the logic under that and grumbled "Damn businessmen" under his breath.  
  
"Why, Detective, I had no idea you felt that way! You don't stand alone, I assure you."  
  
"Well, since I'm here anyway, what do you need?"  
  
"Merely for you to remain in where you are. Nothing more, nothing less."  
  
Jake tugged at the white nylon rope that held him and sighed. "Not like I can leave anyhow."  
  
"True."  
  
Jake sat silently for a while, still tugging at the ropes. He may have been repaying a favor, but he still didn't like the feeling of being helpless. Irons was the one who controlled that freak Nottingham. Hopefully his repayment wouldn't include Nottingham in any way, shape, or form.  
  
A sudden whirring caught his attention and he turned to one of the white walls, just now realizing that it was actually a painted grate. A way out? Heated air flooded through the gate and made it's way around the room.  
  
"All that money and he can't even afford air conditioning," Jake muttered under his breath.  
  
It went unanswered as the wave of heat continued to surround him in a fast flow. The whirring must be a fan of some sort. Was this some test? Did Irons just want to see him sweat?  
  
A putrid smell passed by his nose, causing Jake's stomach to clench in a familiar way; one he felt at the gory crime scenes he investigated with Pez.  
  
"Irons, what the hell is going on here?"  
  
"The payment you owe me, Detective."  
  
Another wave of smell came towards him and he gasped as it met and combined with the first.  
  
"What the hell is this?"  
  
"Why, Detective, don't you recognize it?"  
  
"Why should I?"  
  
"No reason."  
  
The fan continued to push heated air into the room, each new current bringing a new assault to his olfactory senses. Jake began coughing and his eyes started eyes tearing.  
  
"Do you recognize it now, ,Detective?"  
  
Hoping that if he answered correctly he'd be let loose, Jake grimaced and took a deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth. With a flash, he realized just what he smelt; something he had smelled ever since he came to New York and couldn't use the blue police car for off-duty business.  
  
"Well, Detective?"  
  
"It smells like a cab, Irons."  
  
"Wonderful, Detective. Perhaps your powers of observation aren't as pitiful as I suspected."  
  
"Will you let me out now?" The problem with talking is that it meant he couldn't hold his breath for even short periods, a fact which had Jake coughing again.  
  
"I'm afraid not, Detective."  
  
"Torture wasn't part of the game plan!"  
  
Laughter came across the speakers now, an eerie sound that echoed off the walls. "Whose game plan? Rest assured, Detective, that if and when I torture you, it will not include you tied to a chair without a mark on your body. You will bleed, scream, and plead for me to stop."  
  
Jake shook his head, ,the combination of the stifling heat and smells making him light headed. "Irons, you gotta stop this.. I think I'm gonna pass out."  
  
"A doctor is prepared to fetch your body."  
  
"Body?"  
  
"The room you are in, Detective, is a pressurized containment room, following the plan of those the Center for Disease Control uses when they are testing and studying lethal virus such as Ebola." There was no response, and Irons continued, "The air you are breathing cannot leave the room you are in, Detective. Air can only flow in, not out. Your breathing depletes your air supply little by little."  
  
"What about the fan?" Jake's voice was weak; he was close to passing out.  
  
"The fan pushes air in, yes, but not breathable air. Instead, it is methane gas. That's why you are feeling light headed."  
  
"Methane gas?"  
  
"Yes, Detective. Methane, a by product of gasoline. A gas one cannot see or smell; a silent killer. People used to commit suicide by locking themselves in their cars with the exhaust from their engines."  
  
"You're gonna kill me. How come I can smell the gas?"  
  
"Yes, I am. Car exhaust is not the only place that methane gas comes from, Detective. It is also a by product of the human body."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"As I told you before, Detective, I have the utmost respect for Sara Pezzini."  
  
"You're not doin' this because you respect her. If you did, you wouldn't kill her partner, her friend."  
  
"You are nothing but an insect! You are an annoyance that must be dealt with. Did you think your betrayal of her would not have consequences?"  
  
"Betrayal? I haven't betrayed her!"  
  
"You have joined the White Bulls. The White Bulls are out to get Sara Pezzini. That is a betrayal."  
  
"How'd you know?"  
  
"That is unimportant."  
  
"She'll find you, you know. You'll be going down for my murder."  
  
"I think not, Detective. You were taken during the night, there are no signs of a struggle in your apartment, and no witnesses. You will have vanished. Missing, ,a traitor to the White Bulls, unreliable to others. Presumed dead eventually. No doubt everyone will assume it is part of your nature as a surfer, as a bum."  
  
Jake shook his head to clear the fuzzy thoughts. "This isn't because you respect Pez," he repeated, ,the only sentence he could get out.  
  
"You're correct once again. My respect for Sara is only a small part of it. I've recently found the need for a new member of my staff, one which cannot complain of his treatment."  
  
"I'm not gonna be another Nottingham for you! If you want a whipping boy, go find him."  
  
"You won't be a Nottingham, Detective, but a training tool."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"After you die from methane gas exposure, an employee of mine, Dr. Immo, will take your body and freeze it. You will be cloned, and the clones will be awakened as needed."  
  
"Needed for what?"  
  
"Young Nottingham's brothers are restless when they are revived for training. A few of them have aggression problems. If they are tossed a bone, they may settle down."  
  
"You can't do this! No wonder Nottingham's such a freak," Jake whispered as his head lolled to one side.  
  
"You can't stop me," Irons replied. "Dr. Immo, give the Detective another hour before retrieving his body. I want the freezing process to begin immediately and the cloning to start as soon as possible."  
  
That was the last Jake heard as the white room shaded to black and the smells stopped assaulting his nose.  
  
The End  
  
Oh, thanks for all the reviews! 


	6. Diogenes - a short one!

Has some minor swearing

Diogenes

By Kameka

"Hey, Sara?" Jake got her attention carefully, not wanting to set her off.

"Yeah, rookie?" she answered in a bored tone.

"I ask you a question?"

"Just did," she answered.

"Oh. Can I ask you another one?"

"Just did," was repeated, only this time from Sara's partner Danny Woo.

Jake shot the Asian detective a dark look and plunged ahead. "If you'd quit it with the smart remarks, I want you to go out with me!"

Sara looked up from the computer she was inputting data into. "I beg your pardon?"

"Will you go out with me?" Jake repeated.

"Ho, boy," Danny muttered as he stood up from his desk. "I'm gonna go see what's happening in the break room." He made a quick getaway before Mount Sara blew her top, not wanting to be around for the fall out.

Two pairs of eyes followed him, one filled with belated gratitude and the other simmering with reproachful dismay.

"Well?" Jake prodded as he turned back to Sara.

"Jake…"

"I know that tone."

Sara stood up and moved closer to him, leaning on the desk in front of him. "It's just not a good idea to socialize with people from the department."

"You socialize with Danny and Captain Siri all the time," he pointed out in a petulant voice.

"Socialize was the wrong word; It's a bad idea to date people in the department. I don't date either one of them. We're just friends."

"What is we can be more?" The boyish charm that had apparently gotten him far was switched on full blast.

"I'm one of your training officers. It wouldn't be appropriate," she explained in what she hoped was a soothing voice.

The charm failed as a practiced pout graced the lips so often in a grin. "You like it, don't you?"

Sara blinked, disconcerted by the change in the transplanted Californian. "I like what?"

"Having every guy in the building panting after you. Why else would you wear all those tight clothes and work out wearing skimpy little outfits?"

"I wear what I do because I like it, McCartey," she stressed, her green eyes hardening.

"Sure you do," he muttered under his breath. "Especially the side effects."

Sara straightened from her relaxed position and crossed her arms over her chest. "I told you my reasons, McCartey. Damn nice of me when not only don't I owe you any explanations, but I want to knock you out."

He lifted a placating hand in front of him. "Okay, ,okay."

Sara nodded and went back to her desk to continue what she was doing.

"Hey, Sara?"

She froze. "What?" was asked in a decidedly frosty tone, daring him to insult her again.

"Why won't you go out with me?"

"I already told you," she snapped.

"Nah, you gave me some excuses. What's the real reason?"

Sara sighed and propped her elbows on the desk in front of her, her face held in her hands. "You really wanna know?"

"Yeah," he told her, giving an unseen nod.

"Okay, the real reason, rookie, is because I date bad boys, not beach bums. Not only aren't you my type, but I don't trust you; I only date guys I can trust."

Jake blinked. "Why?"

"Diogenes," she answered.

He blinked again and said nothing.

"He was a Greek philosopher who searched for an honest man."

"How'd he search?"

"He walked around Athens in broad daylight carrying a lit lantern."

"Huh." He thought for a minute. "How'd he find one?"

"He was honest himself."

"So if I find an honest guy, I'm honest. Then you'll date me?"

"Whatever." Sara turned back to her computer to continue working, resolutely ignoring the rookie who turned and left.

Moments later, Danny came back from the break room and sat down at his desk. "Where's McCartey going? He was mumbling something about Greeks and lanterns."

Sara shrugged. "To find an honest man."

Danny snorted as he started working again. "In New York? We'll never see him again."

"We can only hope."

The next month, word of a new crazy on the street trickled through the police department, a homeless man wearing rags and carrying a lit lantern no matter the time or day. He was presumed dangerous for continuously stopping and harassing everyone he passed, wanting to look in their eyes as he asked if they were honest or not.

The End

Not really humiliation or death…. But hey, it was late, I was tired! Lots of possibilities for humiliations while homeless, though. Use your imaginations :-) 


	7. Pretty Fly

Standard disclaimers (not mine, mores the pity) and since this is part of this particular series, you all know what that means…

Yes, another Death and Humiliation story… I do plan on writing them… I'm just only writing them when I absolutely need or have to. Enjoy it!

The song is Offspring's "Pretty Fly (For a White Guy)" from their _Americana_ album. Personally, I think it's perfect for Jake. Lyrics are from www.offspring.com. This fic has swearing in it… 

Pretty Fly

By Kameka

Jake McCartey stood in the parking lot staring up at the window he knew belonged to Sara Pezzini. It was dark inside the loft and Jake was mildly disappointed. He had hoped that Sara would be awake since she was an insomniac, a theory he had from the amount of caffeine she drank at the office every day. Oh, well. He'd just have to wake her up, right? With that thought in mind, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed the familiar number, grinning when he was answered with mild curses in a muffled voice. Perfect. Now she wouldn't miss anything.

Reaching into his car, he slid the CD into the player and prepared himself for the show of a lifetime. He'd been rehearsing at home for weeks. Before he'd picked his song, he'd gone to karaoke bars, knowing that singing along with the words being sung or written wasn't the same as just singing. But he was pretty good, if he didn't say so himself. He had a decent singing voice. He'd know that since he was a kid. His mom had always told him so and mothers don't lie to their children, right?

With that, he turned on the CD player and turned the volume on full blast. Carefully he sang the lyrics he had memorized, being just as careful to get the masculine and feminine tones as much as the words themselves.

__

ünden gleubon gloudeun globeun

give it to me baby uh huh

give it to me baby uh huh

give it to me baby uh huh

and all the girlies say I'm pretty fly for a white guy

Lights turned on in the apartment building before him as the music burst out in a wave that shattered the relative calmness of a New York City night Above him, he heard a window slam open as a figure back-lit by bright lights leaned out.

"What do you think you're doing, you jackass?"

__

You know it's kind of hard  
Just to get along today  
Our subject isn't cool   
But he fakes it anyway  
He may not have a clue   
And he may not have style  
But everything he lacks  
Well he makes up in denial 

Another window opened and another backlit person leaned out, this one shining a light directly on his face with a high-powered flashlight. He shielded his eyes and kept singing.

__

So don't debate, a player straight  
You know he really doesn't get it anyway  
He's gonna play the field, and keep it real  
For you no way, for you no way  
So if you don't rate, just overcompensate  
At least you'll know you can always go on Ricki Lake  
The world needs wannabe's  
So, hey, hey, do that brand new thing 

"You know, cutie," the newest person watching him called out, "you definitely make up for what you lack in denial. Who told ya you could sing, sugar?"

Jake spun around even as he sang the chorus, the southern accented voice coming from the parking lot behind him. Standing there was an exotically beautiful black hooker who buffed her red talons on her barely existent top.

To a very angry man yelling "Shut up!" from above him, he started into the next verse of the song. When was Sara going to come see who was making the noises and come down to invite him up?

__

He needs some cool tunes  
Not just any will suffice  
But they didn't have Ice Cube  
So he bought Vanilla Ice  
Now cruising in his Pinto, he sees homies as he pass  
But if he looks twice  
They're gonna kick his lily ass 

"Well, someone's gonna kick your lily ass, bastard. Two freakin' AM in the morning and you're blasting music," yelled another occupant of the apartment building.

Jake jumped and squeaked as he felt hands squeeze his suit clad butt. "Oh, I can do a lot more than kick your ass, sugar," the hooker murmured as Jake looked up into her face and swallowed. His face? Didn't New York have any completely female hookers?

__

Now he's getting a tattoo   
He's gettin' ink done  
He asked for a '13', but they drew a '31'  
Friends say he's trying too hard  
And he's not quite hip  
But in his own mind  
He's the, he's the dopest trip 

One of the doors leading into the parking lot slammed open and a group of people spilled out. It was comprised of both men and women who looked ready to kill Jake, causing him to step back into the prostitute behind him. 

He was a detective, a cop, for god's sake. He had nothing to fear from ordinary citizens, right?

Their faces said otherwise.

Sara's loft was suddenly lit as the music became impossible for her to ignore and she went to the window to look down at who was causing the disturbance.

Jake grinned and waved with the hand that wasn't shielding his eyes, cursing at whomever was still holding the flashlight on him.

One of the windows was wrenched open and Sara climbed out on the fire escape. "JAKE?"

__

So don't debate, a player straight  
You know he really doesn't get it anyway  
He's gonna play the field, and keep it real  
For you no way, for you no way  
So if you don't rate, just overcompensate  
At least you'll know you can always go on Ricki Lake  
The world needs wannabe's  
The world loves wannabe's  
So let's get some more wannabe's  
And do that brand new thing 

Jake waved at her again, still cursing the guy holding the flashlight. He had pretty good night vision, and with the light spilling onto the fire escape from her loft, he would have been able to see what she wore to sleep. Something skimpy, no doubt.

"You know this freak, Pez?"

"Unfortunately, Chris."

"You're a cop. Haven't you taught him about disturbing the peace?"

"He's a cop too, Chris."

"He's a cop? Hey, Tina," the man yelled into the apartment, "you were right! Cops're more trouble then they're worth!"

"Will someone shut this wannabe freak up?" someone yelled to anyone who was listening.

The crowd on the ground advanced towards Jake and he backed up even more. This wasn't going right. He should be up in Sara's apartment and they should be making out, right?

So why wasn't she helping him out with her neighbors?

"Wait, guys! Guys!" Sara yelled down from her position on the fire escape.

They stopped advancing, waiting for her to continue as a cocky grin spread across Jake's features.

Oh, yeah, she wanted him.

"Let a pro handle this, okay? Nottingham," she called into the shadows around the building, only to give out a startled squeak when he jumped off the roof to land next to her.

"You called, my lady?"

"Yeah, think you can take care of him for me?"

"It would be a pleasure, Sara." He jumped from the fire escape in a move á la covert ops and landed safely on the ground.

"Umm," Jake looked around nervously. Unarmed citizens he could handle, but psycho stalker assassin he couldn't.

"You should not have attempted to serenade Lady Sara, Detective. Especially not with such an inherent lack in good taste."

"Umm," Jake repeated, looking around him wildly.

Ian reached into his long black overcoat and pulled out a police issue revolver. 

"Come on, man, you don't wanna do this, do you?" Jake whined.

"I will do whatever the Lady Sara requests of me, Detective. I must admit that this will be a pleasure."

"But they'll trace the gun back to you!"

"No, they won't," Ian answered.

A middle-aged man in a ratty bathrobe, the scent of alcohol clinging heavily to him, walked over to the two. "Come on, guy. You heard the joker sing. You really want him to die fast?"

Ian considered the man and shrugged, pulling a knife out of his coat as well. "What shall I do?"

"Cut out his tongue, for starters. No screaming that way."

Ian looked at the man with an assassin's respect in his eyes as he turned to Jake and grinned, brandishing the knife.

The End

Oh, thanks for all reviews, past and future! 


	8. Tooth & Blade

Standard disclaimers: Witchblade and its' characters are not mine… Neither is Crocodile Hunter. No insult intended to Steve and Terri Irwin. No money made and all that. 

Thanks for all reviews!

Tooth and Blade

By Kameka

Steve Irwin grinned at the camera before turning his attention back to the road. "G'day, mates! Today we're back in America, former home of my beautiful wife Terri." Terri waved from the front passenger seat as the camera turned to reveal a highway that proved one highway looked much like the rest world-wide. 

"However, instead of going to Terri's home state of Oregon and visiting her gorgeous cats, we're heading to the northeastern state of New York." Steve gave another grin and thumbs up before pressing the accelerator to hurry on his way.

"I know that all of you watching are wondering what we're doing in one of the largest cities in America, New York City, so let me tell you! We're here to document and teach you about _Homo sapiens segirezza_, commonly known as the police. Where else would we go? New York City has one of the most diverse ecosystems in America and because of that, their police force must be equally diverse," Steve questioned/informed his audience as he parked and left the car. The camera zoomed in on a sign that read 'Precinct 11' before the cameraman hurried after Steve.

The officer manning the front desk glanced up from his computer as Steve and entourage approached. "Sorry, sir, but only civilian canines that help the disabled are allowed in public buildings."

Steve nodded and bent down to receive a kiss from his brindle dog, Sui. "Guess you gotta sit this part out, girl." He motioned for one of the people to take her back outside to the car.

"Do you have a crime to report?" The officer asked, taking out a blank form.

"You said civilian canines. Do you have many trained canines working along side the officers?"

"Well, we do have a canine unit, where an officer is paired with a canine, and the dogs that sniff out drugs and/or explosives."

"Wonderful!" Steve exclaimed and was about to go on when the officer cut him off.

"Do you have a crime to report?" he repeated.

"Do many people come here to report crimes?"

"Well," the officer sighed, "this is a police station, so yeah. But most just call them in and officers go down to the crime scene." He looked around, for the first time noticing the camera that was trained on him. "Uh, what's going on?"

"Well, Officer…" Steve paused, waiting for the officer to fill in the blank.

"Richards."

"Right, Officer Richards. G'day, mate," he greeted, shaking the confused looking officer's hand. "My name's Steve Irwin. We're here in New York filming a documentary about police officers. It's be shown on my show, Crocodile Hunter."

"Thought you looked familiar. My wife watches your show all the time on Animal Planet and Discovery Channel. She even got the kids hooked on that other show, what's the name... Croc Folder?"

"Croc Files," Steve corrected with a grin.

"Yeah, that's it. Drives me insane."

"You don't think the preservation of our wildlife is important?" Steve carefully kept his smile in place as he asked while Terri, who was off to the side of the cameraman and thus not in the line of view, frowned.

"Oh, sure I do," Richards waved a hand around to encompass his immediate surroundings. "But that doesn't mean I wanna listen to some bleeding heart liberal cry over the possible extinction of some animal that doesn't really serve much purpose. And I can do without some overgrown Boy Scout jumping around like he's on crack and having hallucinations. Even if it is funny watching him do stupid stuff like jumping into a river after a gator."

"Croc," Steve corrected, his smile showing strain as he grabbed Terri's arm. "Everyone's entitled to his or her own opinions," he reminded her.

"Bleeding heart liberal?" she hissed under her breath just loud enough for him to hear. "Overgrown Boy Scout?" she questioned in a slightly louder tone.

He patted her arm soothingly to calm her down. There were few things that could upset his wife, and the unknowing officer had stumbled upon two of the main ones.

"So, if you're not here to report a crime, why are you here," Richards asked before continuing. "Do you have permission to have that in here?" he asked as he cast a suspicious glance at the running camera.

"Of course we have permission, mate! We're here to film a document on the New York City police. Commissioner David Abbott Okayed filming and interviews in all precincts."

"Right," Richards nodded, still wary of letting the khaki clad man any further than his desk since it really wasn't worth his job. "Mind if I call and verify?"

"Not at all!" Steve grinned again and leaned against the desk, accepting his daughter from Terri. "We don't mind waiting, do we Bindi?"

Terri glanced over at Richards again, causing him to swallow and focus on the paper Steve had handed to him as he dialed the phone.

"Hi, Rhonda? This is Officer Richards over at Precinct 11. I have a guy with a film crew who says he has permission to be here? Oh, he does? You did? I didn't get anything. Okay, just checking." Richards hung up the phone and nodded at Steve. "You know how it is," he said by way of apology.

Steve nodded and passed Bindi Sue back to her mother. "No problem, mate."

Richards looked around his desk, wondering what he was supposed to do with the Australian and his friends. Rhonda had said something about a memo, but he couldn't for the life of him remember it. Finally he looked up at Steve and pasted a fairly obviously fake smile on. "So, where'd you start with the other precincts?"

"This is our first stop," Steve explained. "Commissioner Abbott told us to make sure we checked out the best team in New York, so we decided to come here first."

"Best team?"

"Yeah, Pezzini and Woo?" Steve looked over at Terri and gave a small shrug.

"Oh, yeah, they work here. Want me to get you an escort to take them to your office?"

"Please." Steve nodded and moved away from the desk, carefully keeping his smile in place as the camera followed him. Something told him that this was going to be one of the hardest episodes he'd ever done.

"Hey, McCartey," Richards called, flagging down a blonde who was walking through the area.

"Yeah?" He came up to the desk but continued looking at the file he was holding, bumping into Terri in his preoccupation. The impact made him look up and he lazily ran his eyes down Terri's slim body. "Hey," he greeted with what he hoped was a dazzling grin.

"Hi," she responded with veiled distaste as she moved closer to Steve and linked hands with him.

"McCartey, these people are here to interview Pezzini and Woo, take them up to Homicide with ya, will ya?"

"Sure, Richards. Hitting Candy's tonight?"

"I wish. It's 'quality family night.'" Richards' grimace showed exactly what he thought of that idea.

"Ouch. I'll drink a beer for ya."

"Thanks, McCartey," Richards nodded before turning back to his computer to continue what had been interrupted.

"So," Jake began as he led them through the precinct, "what type of documentaries do you do?"

"Ecological preservation, mainly," Terri replied, her hand still firmly holding onto Steve's.

Steve nodded and asked if Jake was interested in the subject.

"Not really. I'm more of a cartoon kind of guy. The closest I get to ecological preservation is watching reruns of Captain Planet," Jake replied as he rapped his knuckles on a closed office door and then opened it to reveal an empty office. "Guess they're in the morgue. Come on, it's this way."

Terri nodded warily and followed Jake and her husband, the film crew trailing after them. 

"So, Officer McCartey," Steve began only to be interrupted by Jake.

"Detective, actually. But Jake is fine."

"Alright, Jake. Are you a native of New York?"

"Nah, born and raised in California and did some travelling before I settled down here."

Steve nodded absently as they reached a basically abandoned hallway.

"Yo, Vicki," Jake called as he opened the door, checking to make sure there weren't any gruesome bodies on the tables before motioning Steve in. "Seen Pez or Danny lately?"

"Earlier today, why?"

"They're wanted for interviews."

"Interviews?"

"Yeah."

Vicki Po came out of her office and nodded at the visitors. "What channel are you working for?"

"Crocodile Hunter shows on Animal Planet."

"Hey, they finally see the light and can tell that humans are really nothing more than animals? Great! Especially the ones that Pez and Danny catch," she grimaced in remembrance of the mutilated bodies and unusual deaths that her favorite team investigates on a regular basis.

"Why especially, Miss...?"

"Doctor, actually. Vicki Po," she introduced herself with a quick smile for the camera and a shake of first Steve's hand and then Terri's. "They tend to get the bad ones."

"Is there such a thing as a 'good' homicide?" questioned Terri.

"Well, not really, but not all of them have religious symbols carved into flesh or a crucifix lodged in a throat, modern day vampires, or any of the other weird stuff that they get," Vicki explained.

"I see," Terri responded, slightly pale at the vivid pictures Dr. Po's words had painted in her mind.

"Yep, you want the weird ones, go to them."

"I'll be sure to remember that," Terri responded with a smile as she left the room to go get a drink from the water fountain they passed in the hallway.

Jake's cell phone rang and he answered it while Vicki was still talking to Steve about some of the odd instances that had happened around Precinct 11. "Excuse me," he interrupted them, "but Danny just called. He and Pez are down at the docks. Vick, coming?"

"Oh, great! We'll get to see _Homo sapiens segirezza_ in action!" Steve gave another thumbs up to the camera and followed Jake out of the morgue.

*

"Well isn't she a beauty!" Steve exclaimed as they arrived at the crime scene. The camera wasn't on the crime scene itself, but instead on a beautiful female officer who was talking to another one. Steve grimaced as Terri elbowed him on her way out of the car.

"Yo, Pez!" called Jake as he left the black and white that had brought him and Vicki Po there. 

"Yeah, rookie?"

"Some people here want to interview you and Danny."

Sara shook her head and turned away from the rookie to concentrate on the crime scene.

"Sorry, she's just a little camera shy," Jake explained to Steve and the camera crew, causing Vicki and Danny to both crack up laughing.

"Pez, shy?" Vicki shook her head and pulled on her white gloves. "Dunno what you're on, Jake. Maybe you wiped out one too many times."

Steve moved closer to the Asian officer that he had seen the woman talking to. "Officer Woo?"

"Detective, actually," answered Danny as he looked up from what he was doing. "You know, you look really familiar."

"Steve Irwin, Crocodile Hunter," he introduced himself and shook Danny's hand.

"Oh, yeah. My niece Mija has a crush on you."

Steve's skin brightened a bit as he fought down a blush. He was used to people recognizing him, but strangers having crushes on him wasn't something he was comfortable with. "She's into conservation?"

Danny shrugged. "She's not gung-ho take-no-prisoners into it, but yeah, she's interested."

Steve's good-natured grin returned as he finally connected with someone who had at least a little bit of interest in his life's work.

"Pez? Pez!" Jake's voice drew their attention to the motionless female.

Danny shook his head and made his way over to her, grasping her lightly on the arm and squeezing. "Come on, Sara… I'm getting used to these blackouts, but I'd still like to know what they're about before you go into one you don't come out of." A few more moments passed before the woman blinked and shook her head.

"Sorry, guys," she offered sheepishly as Danny just shrugged and went back to work.

"So, Detective Woo, are you a New York native?"

Danny nodded absently as he knelt on the ground.

A few feet away from them, Jake could be seen animatedly talking to Sara Pezzini.

Steve turned to the camera and gestures over to the couple. "Observe that the transplanted western subspecies has artificially enhanced plumage, leading one to believe that he physical characteristics are fine within their own habitat but require an extra zing," he punched the air with one fist, "to attract a mate elsewhere."

Danny looked up at the talking Australian. "What show did you say you did again?"

"Crocodile Hunter."

Danny nodded to himself. "Thought so. Your show is on animals, right?"

"Yeah," was Terri's drawn-out questioning answer.

"And you want to interview Sara?"

"Yeah," Terri repeated.

Danny shook his head and went back to work. "This is gonna be a long day," he told himself.

The End

Notes: I thought this idea up the other night while I was talking to Blue Raven about Cops… it's not the same, but it works, I think!

__

Segirezza is Latin for 'security.' I found it on a free online translation website, so my apologies if it's wrong! 


End file.
